


cracks in the sky

by Eddaic



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Friendship, M/M, Profanity, Slash, These two babies, Yulma, mature themes, non-explicit violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5856715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eddaic/pseuds/Eddaic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both live, in a manner of speaking. In some ways, they don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cracks in the sky

Disclaimer: Don't own.

Cracks in the Sky

"It's when people make vows to stay together forever, because they love each other," Alma declares, raising a finger and putting down his book, a fat encyclopedia with yellowed pages. "A priest says something and you put a ring on each other's finger, and _ta-da_! Done." He is always reading and finding the meanings of words and doing other useless things like that. This time, the word is 'marriage'.

Yuu scrunches up his nose in distaste. "That sounds sappy. And annoying."

"You find _everything_ annoying," Alma retorts, laughing.

Yuu can't argue with that, so he scoffs and puts his chin in his hand. "What could possibly be fun about marriage?" he says, picking a dry food stain from his trousers.

"Are you kidding?" says Alma, scrambling to his knees, eyes shining. "Going for walks in the morning, eating nothing but ice cream, reading together...Can you imagine it?" He sighs happily and lies on his back, arms crossed behind his head. "And the best part is that no one gets to tell you what to do. You basically live together, away from scientists or any grown-ups." He giggles. "I can't wait!"

"Give me a warning before you get so excited," Yuu grumbles. "It's embarrassing." Though secretly he wonders about marriage. It is a funny concept. Why would anyone need a ceremony to live together? After all, he and Alma live together. They don't need any rings. That's stupid. All grown-ups are stupid. "Let's go. I'm tired."

Alma's face falls. "But why? I like it here."

Nearby, a machine hisses and belches steam. The pools are still and silent, nurturing their children.

Yuu says, "How can you like this place? I miss my bed. It's warm. And Edgar will come looking for us."

Alma reluctantly agrees. He makes big, sad eyes every time he looks at Yuu, but Yuu only tells him that he looks creepy.

They trundle past the testing labs, and Yuu's footsteps slow. He gazes, unthinking, at the big rooms filled with big machines and big ideas. His stomach lurches at the thought of the pain that will follow the next afternoon. It the same thing, day after day after day. Wake up. Testing. Blood. Pain, blinding pain. Food. Talk. Bed. He feels old and weary and ready for death.

Yuu finds himself fumbling blindly for Alma's hand. It is cold and damp and sticky, as familiar as the pillow he sleeps on, and he squeezes it hard. "When we grow up," he murmurs, "we'll get married."

***

"We can be happy; I promise." Yuu's voice is shrill. He had never imagined he would ever sound like that. On his face there is a manic half-smile, half-grimace that hurts his cheeks. Clouds of smoke waft from the scattered debris and sting his nose.

Alma's face is made of stone. On his wing is impaled Edgar, his eyes glazed over in death.

Yuu continues, speaking quickly, tripping over his words, "It will all be fine. We'll go outside and see the sun. You want to see the sun, don't you? Because I do." He is weeping now, tears coursing down his cheeks and dripping off his chin. His shoulders shake violently. "Alma, _please_. Let's leave...let's leave this behind." Against his own judgement, he begins to stagger forward towards Alma, who is still as a statue and bears deep, consuming hatred in his gaze.

Slowly, tentatively, Yuu places a hand on Alma's shoulder. "Please," he whispers, so softly he can barely hear himself. His hand wanders up to cup Alma's soft, round cheek. He knows how cheesy the gesture is, has read about it and scoffed at it in Alma's books, but can't bring himself to care. He feels numb, suspended in time.

After what seems like an eternity, the ice in Alma's eyes melts somewhat. His shoulders slump. Suddenly, he looks as tired as Yuu feels. "Okay," he murmurs. Yuu's breath catches.

Alma sinks to his knees, dropping Edgar in the process. "Okay," he says again, looking up.

***

They're seventeen when they first kiss each other. Alma tastes sweet and Kanda hates sweets, but for some reason doesn't mind the kiss. It's not so bad. Really. Alma's hands are strong and sure, running up and down Kanda's back, and it makes Kanda feel safe and warm and wanted. For just a while, Akuma and the Order and God don't exist. The grime-dusted chamber is suddenly clean as new, and the cracked stained-glass windows as grand as the ones in cathedrals.

Kanda tentatively raises his own hands and places them on Alma's neck. The flesh is warm. Beneath his fingers he feels the steady throb of a vein.

They break away, panting. Alma's breath is sweet and warm and brushes against Kanda's mouth. Then Alma grins, a devilish glint in his eye, and says, "Your hands are colder than a polar bear's balls, Yuu." He is the only one who is allowed to call Kanda 'Yuu'. Kanda changed that name a long time ago; it is a part of a past he wishes to forget.

"Language, boy, language," Kanda replies, chuckling and wagging his index finger. No one but Alma knows, but Kanda does a smashing impersonation of the head nurse. The first time he did it was in the baths, and Alma had laughed so hard he slipped on the tiled floor and smashed his temple against the edge of a pool. Later, when the relevant nurse tied bandages around Alma's head, they caught each other's eye and sputtered with giggles.

Alma pushes Kanda back down on the bed and runs his fingers down the exposed part of Kanda's chest. "I got it from you." He fiddles with the top of Kanda's tank top and looks mildly annoyed. "Why didn't you wear a shirt? I could have ripped it open the way they do in books."

"I think it looks good on me."

"You _know_ it looks good on you," Alma says, both accusatory and fond.

"I thought you were complaining about it?"

"I was. But I can still do this." Without preamble, Alma deftly unbuttons Kanda's trousers. He stops and glances up when Kanda squirms. "I'm sorry – I didn't..."

Kanda is afraid, though he does not want to admit it.

"I just...we're almost eighteen...well, I am, anyway, and I don't know when..." He lowers his eyes. Kanda can almost hear the rest of the unspoken sentence: _when either of us will die_. Even if they are killed, they will be resurrected, and so it will happen till their seals are drained of energy. In all likelihood they will not live to see their mid-twenties.

Before Alma can say anything further, Kanda flips them over, sinks his fingers into Alma's soft, thick hair, and kisses him. The kiss is carnal, salacious, _needy_ – everything they are not supposed to be, everything they are to abstain from.

There is urgency in the moans and clash of teeth and hot breath. Kanda tastes lust and affection and _life_ , and does not want it to ever be washed from his mouth.

 _Forget, I want to_ forget _..._

***

They are twenty-four and huddled together in bed. Winter has sunk its teeth into the stones of the building, and frost spreads over the cracked windows. Alma runs a finger over Kanda's forearm, up to the sliver of the tattoo that has, over time, crept onto his shoulder. They are nearing death, and know it. "What will happen now?"

Kanda shifts to get more comfortable, and holds Alma's clammy hand in his. "This is okay," he says, and closes his eyes.


End file.
